Prime of Life
by Artemis's Liege
Summary: While still relatively carefree teenagers, before actually committing themselves to romance, Dan and Mart explore the idea of a relationship- with each other. Slash. 31 moments for 31 books.
1. The Black Jacket Mystery

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This story will be a series of shared moments between Mart and Dan, with one for each of the books. However, there are several **ALTERNATE UNIVERSE ELEMENTS**- the details and Dan's name and background have been altered.

**Also, this story relies heavy on the reader's knowledge of each book's events. If you're not familiar with the book, you may be confused.**

**CONTENT NOTICE:** This story will depict a developing relationship of an ambiguously romantic nature between two teenage males. If this isn't your cup of tea, then please, don't waste your time reading this story. Don't like slash? That's fine. No one is forcing you to read this fic. But don't leave a review complaining about the pairing, of all things to worry about.

* * *

The sun wouldn't be setting for another half hour, and compared to the day before, the temperature wasn't overtly cold, but Mart couldn't help worrying over Bobby. His parents were out at the moment, and Trixie hadn't mentioned where their errant younger brother had wandered off to before she went to meet Honey at the stables.

As Mart started down the bridle path just past his family's farm, he briefly worried that the warmer day would lead to the failure of the Bob-Whites' ice carnival. But he pushed that thought away; right now, Bobby's safety was his top priority. The little boy had a habit of roaming the Wheeler's grounds without telling anyone: he was most likely just down at the lake with Jim and Brian.

However, with that catamount loose on the game preserve and the break-in at the clubhouse, Mart found himself unwilling to take a chance by risking his younger brother. Bobby was only six years old, and very naive at that- if he were to encounter the mountain lion, he would probably assume it was a giant house cat and attempt to befriend the beast.

But Mart didn't have to worry long: about halfway along the path, a horse and rider emerged from a trail winding into the Wheeler's game preserve. The large horse, with its steel gray coat, was none other than Spartan, the ornery, middle-aged mount that belonged to the Wheelers. The rider, to Mart's brief surprise, was Dan Madigon, the transfer student who was rumored to be a New York City gang member. And behind him was Bobby, waving excitedly.

"Look, Mart!" Bobby shouted cheerfully. "I made a new friend!"

Judging from the distinct lack of enthusiasm on Dan's face, this was not a shared sentiment. Which was just as well for Mart- he had been presented with the task of guiding Dan on the latter's first day of school at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High, which had been far from a pleasant experience. In addition to being generally callous toward other people, Dan was very disdainful of Sleepyside and its citizens. Mart doubted he had been a gang member, though- he didn't appear outwardly malicious, and Mart had witnessed him decline when offered a cigarette.

Bobby didn't need to mistake Dan for a role model. Not when he already had the Bob-Whites, three of whom actually were his siblings.

Dan approached Mart with a coldly challenging stare, halting Spartan and swinging down from the saddle, before reaching to help Bobby.

Mart nearly shoved him aside. He didn't want this rumored gang member to be around his younger brother. "I've got him."

"Hey, Mart!" Bobby greeted him, all sunny smiles. "This is Danny. He's my friend. He took me to Mr. Maypenny, and then Mr. Maypenny gave me yummy doughnuts!"

"My name is Dan," said the sullen teenager. "Just _Dan_." From the hint of impatience of his voice, Mart was willing to bet that the two had gone over this several times before.

"Reddy was with us!" Bobby continued. His smile dropped abruptly. "Where's Reddy? Where did he go?"

"He was with us most of the way back," Dan said indifferently. "I'm sure he just saw something interesting in the game preserve."

Partially troubled at the notion of a search for Reddy, the previous of which being a fiasco that stranded Brian, Trixie, Jim, and the dog in the midst of a blizzard, Mart didn't take the time to verbally filter the first response that occurred to him. "Something more interesting than a hoodlum city slicker in a leather jacket and cowboy boots? I didn't think people came in such a variety of flavors!"

Bobby was not paying attention to their conversation. "Reddy, Reddy! Where are you? C'mere, boy!"

Dan's venomous glare was strongly reminiscent of a cobra's eyes narrowing into slits as it prepared to strike. "I'm not surprised. Here in your isolated world of the suburbs, you must think that since the Pleasantville- beg pardon, _Sleepyside_- roads go in circles, the whole town revolves around you."

In the background, Reddy bounded out of the woods, to Bobby's cheers, and the Irish Setter began frolicking around the child; both seemed amused.

Mart, though, was certainly in no mood to laugh. "Sour grapes," he said dismissively. "You're just angry that Trixie and Honey accused you of stealing Honey's watch."

The teenager who seemed to embody the cold stillness of the winter around them suddenly transformed into a more familiar human being as he became angry. Dan's eyes flashed. "As I should be. Now Bill Regan hates me."

Mart was puzzled: what did Regan have to do with any of this? "Why do you care what Regan thinks?"

Dan shook his head. "Never mind. But the point remains that your sister falsely accused me of a crime. Don't I have a right to be angry? Oh, that's right: your oh-so-wonderful club requires memers to pay a fine for actually expressing anger. _Yes_," he continued sarcastically. "Those are the friends I'd like to have. The kind that decrees that I shouldn't have any emotions."

Mart didn't consider himself to be a sleuth like his sister, but he could pinpoint a discrepancy when he heard one. "How did you know about the Temper Box?" He asked suspiciously.

"The entire bus heard your sister howling about on the way home from school," Dan replied contemptuously. "Just eager to blame me for all of her problems. I guess I demonized myself though, when I dared to be upset about her talking to me like I was trash."

At the derisive mention of a family member, Mart's temper flared. "Don't talk about my sister like that!"

"Like what?" Dan was unfazed. "Like she's some snobby rich kid? Hey, it's true. All of you are."

"What?" Mart exclaimed. "We Beldens aren't rich, we're poor! We have a farm, we work!"

"When?" Dan inquired bluntly. "If your family has an entire farm to manage, why aren't all of you doing chores instead of riding around the game preserve and ice-skating all of the time? Besides, Bobby basically told me his entire life history. Your family has a fairly extensive garden and orchard, which produces so much crop that your mother has filled the cellar with canned goods. Also, you have chickens and a few cows, which I imagine cuts down your grocery bill. In addition to sending out your laundry to a cleaning service, your parents give you, that blonde girl, and your brunette brother allowances, while also paying my boss's daughter money to mend your clothes. And your father is a bank manager- your family may not be rolling in the green stuff, but you're certainly not 'as poor as church mice' or anything."

"You're very well-spoken for a gang member," Mart observed, hiding his astonishment at Dan's swift analysis of his family's economic situation.

"I was never a gang member, just a foster kid, you classist W.A.S.P.," Dan snapped. "I swear to God, you, your sister and your friends think it's okay to go around spreading rumors about people. You're careless people, especially Trixie and Honey – they smash up things and creatures and then retreat back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it is that keeps them together and let other people clean up the mess they make in the process."

"You're wrong about us!" Mart said defensively. "That's not who we are!"

"If you're going to treat me like a quote unquote 'hoodlum' because of the way I dress, then I'm going to think of you as a bunch of pampered, gullible children, especially since you all of you act like it," Dan said scornfully. "Oh, and another thing- if you're all so concerned about working, why doesn't Trixie actually watch Bobby, a chore that for which, according to him, she is paid? My job is to patrol the game preserve, not chase of children and dogs from the hunting grounds." With that, he turned and remounted Spartan, tugging on the reins and riding away.

Despite his frustration and anger, Mart held his temper in check as he called to Bobby. "C'mon, Half-pint, it's time to go home!"

But as he set off back to the farm, accompanied by both dog and brother, Mart was grateful for the cool air of the evening, because something about Dan Managan heated his blood till it boiled.

* * *

A/N: That's _The Black Jacket Mystery_! Next up: _The Happy Valley Mystery. _What awaits Mart and Dan? Will they actually talk instead of argue this time?


	2. The Happy Valley Mystery

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trixie Belden, nor will this page result in any kind of profit.

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Gray had overtaken the previously clear afternoon, and the crisp air was giving way to actual cold. Six inches of snow had been predicted on the weather forecast that morning, and judging from the wind that seemed to be picking up, this change is temperature was a preclude to the snowfall. The sun's weak attempts to push through the clouds were useless: the sky would be darkening within the next quarter hour.

Mart Belden readjusted his wool gloves and urged Strawberry into a canter. He wanted to get back to the stables before twilight.

Horse and rider reached the crest of the hill, from where they could see down to the wide expanse of property that lay behind the Manor House. The lake was clearly visible, along with the two graceful figures skating across its frozen surface. They danced over the ice with nary a stumble, reminiscent of the figurines in a little girl's jewelry box that twirl when wound. Even in the faint light, the sun reflected on the silver blades of their skates. No doubt about it, Dan and Diana were talented skaters.

Continuing down to the lake, Mart noticed a duo of jackets and backpacks laying on the ground as he dismounted. He allowed Strawberry to go join Sunny and Spartan in their game of tag, smiling at the sight. Spartan and Dan were a good match, very much alike: prickly on the outside, ultimately loyal on the inside.

As he stood by the thick log bench on the edge of the lake, the two skaters noticed him and waved, gliding on over. Diana slowed to a stop, but Dan halted by shifting his skate blades to the side, stopping at the last possible moment. The metal blades screeched against the cold glaze, friction sending up a spray of flakes from the ice.

"Hey, Mart!" Di Lynch smiled at him, cheeks flushed in exertion. Undoubtedly, the reason for the discarded B.W.G. jackets was the excess of their body heat from hours of skating. "We were wondering if anyone would join us out here, and now you're here just as we're finishing up!" She send a bright smile at Dan, and Mart tried to suppress a surge of jealousy.

"But we still had fun on our own," Dan added. His mouth stretched into a smirk as his eyes readily met Mart's. "Diana was telling me all about you." He didn't clarify whether "you" meant Mart himself or the Bob-Whites in general.

"Oh, I didn't realize that it had become so dark," Diana said with worry, glancing at the sky. "I'd better be getting home before the storm hits." In a flash, she had replaced her skates with shoes, donned her jacket, collected her backpack, and was waving to them as she rode away on Sunny, her palomino pony.

That left Mart alone with Dan.

"She's very pretty, isn't she?" The words rushed out of Mart's mouth before he had time to consider them; he inwardly cursed himself for his lack of verbal control.

A vaguely insolent smile curled Dan's lips. "Maybe. But she's more than a pretty face- she makes excellent conversation if the topic captures her interest."

There was an underlying message, but it was utterly in decipherable to Mart. Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Mart tried for a compliment in hopes of lowering Dan's defensive walls. "You're a very good skater, you know."

"Oh, I know," Dan said matter-of-factly. "That's why_ I_ won the speed-skating race at your ice carnival."

The _And you didn't _remained on spoken, but Mart's face flushed as he mentally filled in the blanks and wrenched open his jaw, preparing to deliver a scathing riposte.

"I hope you and your friends have fun in Iowa," Dan said suddenly.

His abrupt transition into sincerity was surprising, and Mart was caught off-guard. "I think you should come with us."

"I don't," Dan replied bluntly. "All of you will have a better time without getting to know some basic stranger."

"You're not a stranger," Mart told him, feeling an odd urge to reassure his bitter but evidently courageous peer. "You're a Bob-White now."

"I am, aren't I?" Dan said musingly. His eyes locked onto Mart's gaze. "And you gave me your jacket to own. The inner label is still embroidered with your name. If I were a girl, I'd be impressed by your chivalry."

Mart wasn't quite sure how to respond, but was spared the chance as Dan continued after a deliberate pause.

"But I'm not a girl, Mart. I would never try to exploit you and your friends, and I hope that none of you would try to use me."

"You'd never 'try to exploit' us?" Mart echoed incredulously. "You obviously don't see the Bob-Whites as friends, Dan, the way you talk about us makes that obvious. You refer to us as a collective that you're against. Which makes me wonder if you decided to accept our offer of membership just to impress your uncle."

Dan shrugged. "Fine, you caught me. I wasn't overtly taken with any of you, but I thought maybe I could become closer to Regan if I hung out with you. He seems to like all of you a lot."

"He's been a good friend to us," Mart replied.

Dan nodded, his face tightening. "I know. Whenever I'm at the stables, I watch all of you- I mean, the rest of the Bob-Whites, laugh it up with him. And then he barely says anything to me."

"Do _you_ talk to _him_?" Mart asked pointedly.

"I don't think that he'd like what I'd have to say." Dan's words held no self-pity; it was just a simple statement.

"You should try," Mart said insistently, but then he clamped his mouth shut. Dan was an orphan, as was Regan. What gave Mart the right to lecture Dan how to act around his one living relative?

In the silence, Dan observed the darkening sky. Mart followed his gaze and saw the blinking green light of the town weather signal, which warned of forthcoming tornados and snowstorms, flashing in distance, mounted upon its perch, at least one hundred feet in the air.

"What is it?" Dan asked idly.

"The viridescent beacon is a connotation of imminent, inclement regional atmospheric conditions," Mart informed him without missing a beat.

"Don't bother with your grandiose vocabulary." Dan looked at him levelly. "I'm no country club W.A.S.P. Hell, I'm not even a gang member, I'm just the nephew of your neighbor's hired help. It's sweet of you, but you don't have to worry about impressing me."

Something in his gaze tempted Mart to speak to him in profound conversation, but he didn't know what words he wanted to use.

So he settled on a good-bye instead. "I have to be getting to the stables. You should be going someplace where it's safe. There's a storm coming."

Mart turned and strode to Strawberry, but he was able to hear Dan's uncharacteristically weary response.

"Dear God, I hope not."


	3. The Marshland Mystery

**A/N:** Any feedback would be appreciated.

Enjoy this chapter as drama begins!

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Birds sang, their calls echoing throughout the quiet wood. The sky was pale, but if the considerable humidity in the air was any indication, the residents of Sleepyside would soon be witness to the first thunderstorm of spring.

Though the path continued on, Mart turned off of the trail beaten into the earth by consistent travelers, striking off to take a shortcut through a clearing. He emerged from the forest in less than two hundred yards, having reached the half-acre of land that Mr. Maypenny devoted to harvesting corn. At the moment, the field was fallow, but with any luck, that would be corrected tomorrow.

His bright blue eyes landed on the shirtless figure at the far end of the field, who was steadily working a hoe into the ground. Quickening his pace, Mart shouted to him, but the other didn't acknowledge his arrival.

"You could at least respond," Mart complained upon reaching Dan.

"I could," Dan affirmed with a shrug.

"But you didn't."

Dan smirked. "Right on the money, Belden. No wonder you're an honor roll student."

Mart paused, observing his friend, noting his wiry muscle. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Though the air was somewhat damp, and the weather warm, Mart felt perfectly fine in his T-Shirt and jeans.

"I was watching a movie the other day where a monster lurched out of the cornfield and devoured shirtless teenage boys." Dan's expression was bored.

Taken aback, Mart blinked, his gaze roaming Dan's face, then his bare chest. "And you want to be devoured by a monster?"

"It's been a slow week," Dan replied carelessly. "Your sister has been too busy to antagonize me lately, and I become very bored without some fiery blonde around here to keep me occupied."

"Okay," Mart said, deciding to choose his battles and let Dan's sarcastic antics slide. "But you might have noticed that there is no corn in this field at the moment, so the monster would probably have to gallop out of the woods instead of the cornfield. And I don't think many monsters would be stupid enough to prowl around during the day. I'm not sure how those flaws will affect your plans. Actually, I just came by to tell you what I've just told me Mr. Maypenny. Since the weather forecast predicted rain, we're going to wait to plant the corn until tomorrow, when it's all sunshine."

Dan smiled, as if amused. "All sunshine and rainbows, huh? Doesn't surprise me, especially with this whole "neighbor helping neighbor" kind of thing. It's like the American Dream, or something."

Valiantly attempting his eyes from straying to Dan's lean but defined chest, Mart considered him. "That's right. You were raised in the city lifestyle, didn't you? It must be odd, to be in an rural area all of the sudden."

"Not quite," Dan countered. "My last foster home was in a farm community, with a group of Christian fundamentalists. They made me work for about six hours each day, and they didn't believe that women should be awarded any sort of position of power, but they kept me healthy and warm. I was just grateful that they didn't spend my food money on crack cocaine, like my set of foster parents before them did."

Stunned and somewhat sickened by this matter-of-fact revelation, Mart found that he couldn't look Dan in the eye, and instead caught himself gazing at Dan's smooth chest. "I'm sorry," he managed at last. "I never should have said anything."

"You can't be faulted for something you didn't know about," Dan replied plainly. "But you're right, it is kind of strange, being here. With these back country roads, so many twists and turns, I always half-expect to be hit by a car. Just barreled over by a reckless driver who doesn't care enough about other people to follow the speed limit in the first place, let alone slow down to help me. Wouldn't that be an awful way to go?"

"Don't be so morbid." Mart was surprised by the firmness of his own words. "That's not going to happen to you."

Again, Mart had the odd feeling that Dan's penetrating stare was drawing him in, forcing him to gaze into Dan's eyes. "It's nice that you want to reassure me." He deliberated. "_Mart_," he added, quite intentionally.

Shaking his head, Mart broke the shared gaze, and to his embarrassment, his gaze landed on Dan's chest again. The skin wasn't marred, but there were several noticeably long scars. The marks didn't look like medical incisions. Perhaps a badge of honor gained in a teenage rite of passage? A knife fight? Dan may not have been warm and cuddly, but Mart had difficulty picturing him engaging in such an extreme level of violence.

"Do you think I look good?" Dan inquired abruptly. "I've been arguing with myself about getting a tattoo on my chest. Maybe it could drift over to my abs, too." He placed his hands on his hips, giving Mart a show. "I think I have the body for it."

Mart choked.

"You can take a picture," Dan invited.

Disbelief crossed over Mart's handsome face.

"I mean, after I get my tattoo."

"Don't." Mart shook his head. "You'll look like a thug. Respectable people don't get tattoos."

"There's not very much about me that's respectable," Dan returned, turning and walking away from Mart.

"You're a good student," Mart tried. "You do very well in math, science, and English, even if you do sleep during history class. You could go to college on a scholarship easy if you keep up the hard work."

"That's an idea." Dan sent him a smile.

Mart was surprised at Dan's concurrence and surprised with himself for feeling pleased. "Would it take all of the fun out of your life, Dan, if you were to be respectable?"

Dan scoffed. "I'll never be the paragon of honor that's you, Brian, and Jim, but I like to think- " he was cut off as he turned to walk backwards but ended up fumbling with the hoe he was carrying. He tried to regain his balance but fell, twisting and tripping over the handle.

On instinct, Mart dove to catch Dan, to stop him from falling, and Dan wound up wrapped in Mart's arms. The two stood for a moment, gazing at each other in a blank and rather hapless manner, both their minds working to process the whirlwind series of events of which their position was the result.

Suddenly, it happened. There was no provocation, actually, and it was utterly impossible to know who initiated it, but suddenly, someone planted a chaste, quick little peck on someone's lips. It was so fast in could have even been construed as accidental, but that was left to ambiguity.

During what seemed to be an eternity after their lips wrenched apart, they stood still, staring at each other in shock and mounting horror.

And then Dan jerked back; Mart quickly released his hold on him.

"That's very funny, Belden," Dan said, with an undercurrent of anger in his tone. "Is that the kind of thing respectable people do? Tell me, is it? Because I just think you're sick."

The situation had so suddenly slipped out of Mart's hands that he could barely collect himself. "Dan, wait a minute- "

But apparently, Dan was not willing to wait for anything. Mart could see his friend locking down, closing himself off, the windows of his eyes rapidly covered by shutters.

"Just forget this," he hissed venomously, just like a copperhead. "Tell anyone about this, and I will come after you, I swear to God. Don't jeopardize my happiness just for a joke, because I can jeopardize much more than that for you."

Evidently, Mart was then dismissed, and he watched helplessly as Dan strode off into the dark of the forest.


	4. The Mystery at Bob White Cave

As typical to her unreliable nature, Trixie had "forgotten" about barn duty and run off with Honey to unknown whereabouts, leaving her chores neglected for the day. And because Trixie rarely faced discipline for her consistent irresponsibility, her task of cleaning out the barn fell onto Mart's shoulders.

Despite his initial grousing, Mart wasn't angry about taking on Trixie's chores. After all, she was off solving mysteries so frequently that he had adjusted to picking up the slack in her work on the farm some time ago.

He was just finishing re-stacking the feed bags when he happened to glance up and find Dan leaning against the barn doorway several feet away, disinterestedly observing him.

Mart straightened. "When did you get here?"

"Just a few moments ago," Dan responded, his face and tone empty of emotion. "I just wanted to let you know that I won't be joining the club on your visit to the Ozarks with your uncle. I can't risk falling behind in school."

Mart locked gazes with him. "Are you sure that's the real reason?"

"Thank you," Dan said in reply.

"I- what?" Mart glanced quizzically at him.

"I really appreciate your cooperation in conversation. You're not hiding behind long strings of pretentious vocabulary anymore." Dan's tone was sincere.

"Does it really irritate you that much?" Mart was very aware that they were straying away from the inevitable topic that needed to be verbalized, but he was relieved the conversation had not yet taken that turn.

"Think of it this way, Mart," Dan said with a shrug. "A nouveau-riche man will fill the library of his mansion with classic books in an attempt to appear educated and be accepted by the rest of high society. But if you pick up a book from the shelf of his library, you can see that the pages are still attached, haven't been cut apart yet. The books are completely unread. It's easy to figure out that he's a fake, a regular Belasco."

"So what?" Mart snapped. "Are you saying that I talk as though I'm trying to rise above my background or something?"

"I'm saying that it's ridiculous how you have to use such extravagant terms to present yourself instead of just being straightforward," Dan informed him without reservation. "But each to their own."

There was a short silence.

Mart took it upon himself to speak of the incident that he desperately wanted to forget. "The only reason you're not coming with us is because I kissed you."

"Don't be so self-centered," Dan replied calmly. "I don't plan and structure my life solely around my interaction with you, Mart."

"You've been avoiding me ever since it happened," Mart said, his heart thundering in his chest.

Dan sent him a long look that had connotations of annoyance. "Look, I know you only kissed me_ as a joke_- " he stressed the last three words " -but if someone had seen us, our lives would be made hell. We may live in the twenty-first century, Belden, but ignorance and prejudice still exist. This town is mostly full of whitebread W.A.S.P.s- Christ, women's liberation has yet to take place here. Even in our daily lives, why do you think that Jim is so eager to be Trixie's knight in shining armor and Trixie allows herself to be the damsel in distress? Because they were raised and taught to fill those gender roles and to never deviate. That's why Trixie will never be able to rescue herself. Everyone will coo and swoon over how romantic it is that Jim charges off to her rescue, but you've got to face it: at the end of the day, Trixie isn't any stronger than a Disney princess. If she was, people would throw a fit."

"So the kiss was just a joke to you?" Mart asked cautiously.

"Yes, and if you pulled a _joke_ like that in the Ozarks, I have no doubt that if any of those Bible-belters saw us, they would have us lynched on sight. Prejudice isn't a pretty thing, Mart."

"I never said it was," Mart responded, with more than a trifle of irritation in his voice. The lecture, its topic, and the circumstances rendered him tense. He watched Dan with wary eyes. "You only seem concerned about prejudice, not about the action itself."

"Why should I care about what someone feels for someone else?" Dan replied, boredom evident in his tone. "It's really none of my business. I don't why know everybody else gets up in arms about a guy with a guy or a girl with a girl. Seriously, none of them are hurting us at all. I don't see a problem."

Heat rose in Mart's face, though he wasn't certain if it was shame or embarrassment, or if it was because the topic was awkward. "Well, the Bible says -"

"Don't lecture me about the Bible," Dan cut in. "I attended Catholic school for seven years before I got stuck in the foster care system. I know what the Bible has to say about guys who like other guys and girls who want girls. And yet in the same chapter of the Bible, God condemns people who plant different crops in the same field, people who eat shellfish, people who touch pigskin, and women who go outside their home while they're on the rag. It seems that people are very selective about what remains a sin. I mean, all of a sudden, tattoos are A-okay, but 'teh gay' still remains evil? That's totally inconsistent."

"So you don't believe in the Bible?" Mart queried, puzzled.

"The only reason the social stigma of homosexual relationships still exists is because people use the Bible to perpetuate their own petty prejudices," Dan responded evenly. "The Bible was used to justify the Inquisitions, the Holy Wars- which were all about killing in the name of Christianity -slavery, and the Holocaust. People ignore all that stuff Jesus said about not judging others' sins and the like."

"I don't even think many people still believe in God. No, they just skim through the Bible and take a line or two out of context to achieve their goals or express their own views while running for office or whatever. Think about it: Christians don't like Muslims because Muslims justify their hatred of Christians with the Qu'ran, the Islamic holy book. But then Christians turn around and endorse gay-bashing and slut-shaming and justify it by their holy book, which is the Bible. Don't you see the hypocrisy?" Dan stared at him, his intense gaze boring into Mart's blue eyes.

"When you point it out to me like that, yeah, I guess I do." Mart shrugged, uncomfortable.

"The Bible has been heavily censored and rewritten over a period of thousands of years, not to mention translated countless times," Dan stated flatly. "Beg pardon, but I don't see any reason why I should strictly adhere to the text in a book that probably isn't even accurate. Besides, times have changed: in Jesus's day, it used to be common to stone women to death for committing a perceived sin, but in the modern world, we recognize how twisted and unjust it is to do that."

"That's your opinion, huh?" Mart bit his lip.

"My opinion is that people would do better to start solving real problems instead of using religion to persecute others," Dan returned. "Common sense doesn't even appear to prevail anymore; it's all, 'the Bible tells me this,' and 'the Bible tells me that,' but no one thinks about _what_ the Bible tells them to do. I believe in God, just not the particular Christian god who forbids premarital sex for women and greenlights it for men and who judges other people on the basis of whom they're attracted to and other useless stuff like that."

"You don't think that homosexuality is a choice, then," Mart realized.

Dan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think that people open themselves up to persecution and threat of death just piss off Christians. God, life must be hard when you're a middle-class W.A.S.P. and these homos are just trying to get you mad by being all gay with their gayness because they don't have anything better to do with their lives." He shook his head, exasperated. "You know, I thought that you were supposed to be smart."

Another brief interlude of silence.

"Well, you gave me a lot to think about," Mart told Dan neutrally. He was surprised Dan had spoken at length; usually Dan was silent and smirking in the shadows. The gears in his mind whirled as he looked at his friend, processing the information, mulling over the new perspective provided to him.

"I try," Dan informed him. He turned to leave. "And if your uncle comes to visit here again, Mart, tell him to bring that Dot Murray with him. Jim was enamored with her, and he told me all about her. I wouldn't mind taking a girl like that out for a spin on the ice. From what Jim said, she has the looks, body, and talent of a professional figure skater."

And with that, Dan departed.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for the great reviews. Be sure to let me know what you think of the story so far.


	5. The Mystery of the Blinking Eye

**A/N:** Another day, another update. How is everybody?

I have decided that every so often, a chapter of this fic will feature a segment entitled, "**Trixie Belden Fanfic Rants**". As you might've guessed, this part will embody my complaints about what annoys me in typical Trixie Belden fanfic.

Feel free to express your thoughts on the chapter and rant _du jour_ in a review. I'm open to suggestions or tips.

**Rant of the Day**: Fanfic's presentation of Dot Murray

I was just sifting through some Jixemitri fanfiction, and I was kind of appalled at the amount of hatred for Dot Murray. Seriously, she's a character who appears in one book with no dialogue, as a talented figure skater and another girl besides Trixie whom Jim might be interested in. And yet all of these diehard Jim/Trixie shippers jump at the chance to bash her character at every opportunity possible. Then they claim that it's "just for fun" and "a joke." For God's sake, why do you need to put down a different female character to promote Trixie?

Rant over. Onto the story! :)

* * *

The sounds of the city were still audible at nighttime, even through the walls of Mr. Wheeler's upscale New York City apartment. But Mart couldn't simply rationalize the noise as the cause of his sleeplessness.

After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Mart abandoned his bed in favor of the living room. With the slumbering bodies of Ned and Jim in the same room as he, Mart felt too confined. Though weary, he realized that he needed to be considerate of the other occupants of the apartment, who were sleeping. Thus, he did his best to remain quiet as he moved out of the bedroom and down the hall.

But when he flicked the light switch of the living room, he was startled to discover that he wasn't alone; Dan was awake and presumably had been sitting in the dark.

"What are you doing up?" Mart hissed, trying to recover from his brief fright.

"I have insomnia sometimes. I guess that this is just one of those times," Dan replied tonelessly.

Mart was tempted to sit in one of the armchairs beside Dan's, but out of caution, he settled for the luxurious sofa. He was aware, as he sat down, that the thing probably cost more than all of his family's cars put together.

Dan didn't initiate any other conversation. Instead he gazed off into space, his expression unfathomable.

Hesitantly, Mart asked, "Are you thinking about what happened this morning?" The words were barely out of his mouth before he winced: he could be just as tactless as Trixie sometimes. Too late, it had occurred to him that Dan may not have wanted to discuss the day's events.

As Dan's coolly disinterested gaze turned towards him, Mart had to make an effort to avoiding flinching. For a moment, Dan seemed to consider him with his eyes before responding as a wan smile barely formed on his lips. "Is this what you have to do all the time? Retrieve Trixie from life-threatening situations that were created through her own foolishness?"

A spike of irritation rose within Mart at Dan's dismissive inquiry. "Look, I'll admit that what she did was pretty dumb- "

"I don't understand your sister," Dan said contemplatively. "She's so materially generous, and she works to helps others. But she can be utterly judgmental, naive, rude, and frankly, selfish when it comes to being solicitous of other people. It makes her seem so ungrateful."

"I'll admit, she wasn't thinking- " Mart began.

"She easily could have been killed," Dan interrupted. "If I had been mistaken about the address- "

"What do you mean?" Mart questioned, frowning.

"Doesn't matter," Dan returned flatly.

Staring at Dan, a thought dawned on Mart, "You told me that you weren't from New York City," Mart said slowly. "But if that's true, then how _did_ you recognize that address?"

"Leave it alone." Dan's tone was devoid of much emotion.

Frustrated, Mart glared. "What are you trying to do? Create an aura of mystery for yourself or something? You're like some wealthy party host who throws elaborate balls all in an attempt to make a name for himself and never tells anyone the truth about his past because he wants to be perceived as 'sophisticated' and 'mysterious' and lets all sorts of wild rumors fly about him."

"What's your point?" Dan asked, unimpressed.

Mart eyed him with exasperation. "Don't you know all the things they say about you at school? Do you like being inscrutable, being such an enigma? Why don't you just tell the truth and get it out in the open?"

Dan's face tightened. "I let people believe what they want to believe. Logic has little effect on those who stubbornly stick to their decisions no matter what the evidence. I don't have to justify myself to a bunch of W.A.S.P.s."

"Enough with the 'W.A.S.P.' talk!" Mart snapped. "I swear- "

"You're too much of a choir boy to do that," Dan muttered.

" -that's just a smokescreen whenever you have weak argument!"

Dan sent a poisonous look his way. "You want to know my past, Belden? Fine, I'll tell you. I was raised in Atlantic City, New Jersey, by my parents. My father was a U.S. Navy S.E.A.L. who was declared missing in action over in North Korea when I was thirteen. My mother was killed by a drunk driver less than a month afterward. I was entered into a foster home with guardians who were obviously just trying to collect extra cash to support their drug habit. My foster brother, Luther- Luke, was also into drugs, both using and trafficking. He was a go-between, a small-time drug runner to some of the New York gangs from suppliers by where we lived."

Dan's voice was edged with bitterness. "If I wanted to eat or get warm clothes for the winter, I went with him, because my foster parents sure as hell weren't going to me a jacket or even any food. Jake's Hamburger Place was our main drop-off spot to pass on the drugs. It wasn't anything too serious- just weed and basic prescription painkillers. That's how I spent my fourteenth birthday- filling drug orders for criminals."

"Luke . . . " The name tugged at Mart's memory while he sat, stunned, absorbing the story of Dan's troubled past. "Was that the guy who tried to rob the Wheelers?"

"Yeah. He left the foster home as soon as he turned eighteen. I got out of there soon, too, but I didn't get the chance to choose to leave. My foster parents were smoking pot laced with crack one night and it lit the draperies on fire." Dan smiled bitterly. "I was upstairs sleeping when it happened. Everyone managed to get out unharmed, and when the authorities interviewed me and heard the truth, I sent to live out with a farm for the next two months, a different foster home, this time with Christian fundamentalists." Dan exhaled in a sigh and continued his sordid story.

"During that time, someone must have actually taken the chance to look through my file, because social services found Regan. Once he got custody of me, he sent me off to live with Elijah- Mr. Maypenny. A few days after I got to Sleepyside, Luke found me- I guess he was taking a shortcut to the city on a drug run. He was tripping out basically the entire time he was here, and he tried to enlist my help to break into the Manor House. When I refused, he attacked Mr. Maypenny . . . to give me 'incentive,' he said. Honestly, I'm surprised that Luke never killed me when he had the chance. He had a gun with him the entire time, but I guess he was too high to remember to use it, thank Christ."

Wordlessly, Mart stared at Dan with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," was all he managed. Images inspired by his friend's matter-of-fact statements raced through his mind as he processed what he'd just heard. His stomach lurched as mental pictures formed, and he was unable to block them out: a younger Dan wandering the streets, cold and starving; Dan meeting with criminals in that dingy rat's nest of a restaurant, just so he could get something to eat later that day; Dan's room on fire, flames slowly creeping towards him as he slept, totally unaware . . .

"Don't worry about." Dan shook his head. "All of that's over now." He gazed off into space again. "Your friends from Iowa are visiting us here. I wish they'd brought that Dot Murray girl. I would've liked to meet her."

Nonplussed, Mart studied him, trying to puzzle out the sudden switch in the topic of conversation. "I don't know," he replied at last, unsure what else to say.

"Jim was very fond of her," Dan went on. "And he has excellent instincts about other people. I think it's because he wasn't sheltered and coddled whilst growing up. I think Jim has a good grasp on Dot's character."

Mart recalled Jim and Dot dancing together in the gym of the Des Moines high school, gazing at each other with love-struck expressions. "I think Jim was attracted to her. She _was _very pretty."

"Jim likes people for more than their looks," Dan replied promptly, "or else he wouldn't have been stuck on Trixie for so long."

The mention of his sister brought about Mart's next words: some inexplicable aspect of Dan's momentary demeanor inspired Mart to trust Dan, to confide in him. "Trixie claimed that she thought Dot was 'swell,' but I don't think that Trixie really liked her all that much."

"That doesn't surprise me," Dan responded. "Jim and Trixie won't commit to one another, but they're always green-eyed with envy whenever someone else grabs away the other's attention. That's why I don't think they'll ever be happy together as a couple. They can't trust each other, but I don't think they'd ever recognize that they each could be happier with someone else."

Mart swallowed; nervousness overcame him as fragments of a question pieced together in his mind. "Do you think about other potential couples' compatibility?"

"Do you have a couple in mind?" Dan asked plainly.

Mart tried to quell the urge to speak, to save himself the embarrassment, but it was a futile effort. "You like girls," Mart said suddenly.

Dan sat up straighter, his attention completely focused on Mart now.

"I saw you flirting with those airline stewardesses at the United Nations," Mart persisted. "And in Sleepyside, you flirt with some of the college girls who go through our town. You don't seem interested in any girls our age, though."

Dan shrugged. "I've seen the way you look at Diana. You're attracted to the 'fairer sex,' like they're called, as well."

"But you're attracted to me, too." The words rushed out of Mart's mouth.

Dan's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think that?"

"You reacted so violently to the kiss itself." Mart tried to remain calm, but he was all too aware of his pounding heart. "And later you clarified that you had no problem with guys being . . . you know. Your actions and words didn't match, and you seem like an honest person- "

Dan stood, walking over to where Mart was sprawled on the sofa and joining him there. "'Honest'? I just admitted to you that I helped sell drugs. I'm not all true blue like you and your friends, Mart." His voice dropped to hardly above a whisper. "You just don't seem to be capable of understanding that."

"Then let me understand you. I can if you'll give me a chance," Mart insisted. "Stop putting up walls to lock everyone out. Don't deflect attention away from yourself in order to hide in plain sight. You accuse me of using words to distract from myself, but I think you do it even more than I do."

"You'd make the effort to attempt to understand me?" Dan's eyes were captivating: Mart felt enthralled by them, unable to look away.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Mart faltered. "I can't put it into words exactly, but you . . . kind of, um, intrigue me. Maybe just a little bit."

"I intrigue you," Dan echoed.

"Well, yeah." Heat rose in Mart's cheeks. "And, well, because you're an important person to me."

Dan leaned forward, genuinely curious. "Am I?"

Once again, their lips met before either was aware of their actions, but this time, there was no rush to break apart, to push away. Instead, their mouths sealed over one another's in a gentle but definitely eager manner, allowing all tension and emotion to pour out through the passionate gesture. They made the most of the moment spent locked against each other, until reality inevitably seeped back into their minds.

When they separated, Mart realized that at some point, he had wrapped his sturdy arms around Dan's lithe body; his friend's physique, he noticed, was sharp-edged and wiry, but with lean, discernible muscles.

"That was fun," Dan said, his voice almost musing. He detangled himself from Mart's embrace and caught his eye. "Let's pick up where we left off once we get back to Sleepyside. Anyone could see us here."

Mart rose and stretched, surprised to find himself abruptly tired.

Dan noticed. "Go to bed, Mart," he told him, tone unexpectedly mellow. He chuckled. "Knowing Trixie, you'll need of all your energy tomorrow for detective work."


	6. The Mystery on Cobbet's Island

**Rant _du jour_:** co-dependent Trixie.

Yes, Trixie was sometimes jealous when Jim's attention was focused on other girls. But that doesn't mean her entire life revolves around gaining Jim's affections. If he started dating someone else, I'm sure she would be upset at first, but sometimes in fic she becomes like freakin' Bella Swann in the _Twilight Saga_ when Edward left her.

Trixie is stronger than that: she's not going to waste away or sob herself to sleep every night because Jim has another girl. And the fact that people treat her protracted grief over Jim's romantic life as part of a normal teenager's angst is weird. Being upset that your crush doesn't like you back? Normal? Entering an extended interval of despair because your crush doesn't care for you in a romantic sense? Unhealthy and obsessive.

With that said, on with the story.

* * *

Dawn's light was brightening the eastern corners of the sky as Mart Belden strode across the rolling plains on the outskirts of the Wheeler's game preserve. A few moments had escaped since half-past five o'clock, and the marmalade orange color that preceded the sun's ascent was slowly overtaking the receding night. The early morning fog was thick, obscuring most surroundings more than ten feet away. Faint light strained to filter through the mist, which would soon be dispersed by the sun's warmth. The air carried a brisk chill, a prelude to a rare cool and breezy day rather than the usual muggy Westchester summer weather.

Mart continued to his destination- a shadowy cluster of trees nearby Louis Road, the dead end of which had been reclaimed by nature and was now overrun with brush and climbing vines hanging from tree limbs. Overgrown hedges and shrubbery ascertained that any vantage point from the dirt road to the shady grove was steadfastly hindered.

As he approached, the morning mist rendered the grove of trees gloomy and somewhat eerie against the semi-darkness, and Mart was reminded that he had abandoned the traveled path sometime ago in his sojourn to this location. Leaving the common road didn't bother him as much as it perhaps should have; in the short amount of time since he and Dan had admitted their affections for one another, he found that he almost enjoyed withdrawing from what others thought to be customary.

Besides, he was eager to explore the alternate path that was rapidly presenting itself. Mart had never considered himself an iconoclast, but now he was beginning to question the pertinence of convention. Why was tradition something people bothered with if it was all in the past, anyhow?

Calls from waking birds distracted Mart from his musings, and he looked about, bright blue eyes scanning the landscape close at hand; he was almost there. A dozen more yards into escalating chaparral, and he was hurrying up the earth's brief incline to the murky copse, where he found that his arrival had been anticipated.

"There you are. I've been waiting."

The low voice brought Mart's attention to the figure in the shadows.

Dan was stretched out on the ground, his body arranged intentionally to capture Mart's notice, his form on display for Mart's eyes to travel over. One of his legs lay flat while the other was bent at the knee, foot resting on the ground. His hands were tucked behind his head, elbows outward; position of his arms was very deliberate, causing the hem of his black shirt to rise, displaying a good inch of trim lower abs.

The sight brought Mart's throat to tighten, among other things.

A smile, small but wicked, upturned Dan's lips, and a gleam of satisfaction appeared in his eyes as he discerned the effect his strategic position had on Mart. "Going to take another picture, Belden?"

Wasting no time, Mart joined Dan on to the ground, close to him, but not in physical contact. He was aware at this point that Dan didn't seem to enjoy the sensation of touch when he himself did not initiate the gesture.

"I heard you're going to the beach." Dan reached out and lightly traced Mart's chest through the fabric of his shirt, causing his skin to tingle in excitement. "That seems like fun."

Distracted by Dan's touches, wondering if it was a sign of desire on the other teen's part, Mart concentrated on speaking. "Not fun enough to make you want to go with us, I guess," he managed roughly.

Dan appeared amused, but Mart couldn't tell if it was from his reaction or his reply. "It's too risky. Someone might notice us."

A few seconds passed in silence; Mart was sobered by this reminder that their relationship was taboo, no matter how enjoyable it was to him.

"I think you should make a move on Diana while you're there," Dan said conversationally.

Startled, Mart abruptly pulled back from Dan, looking at him in confusion. "What?" He wasn't sure he'd heard Dan correctly.

"The beach is a perfect setting for a romance between a boy and a girl," Dan informed him matter-of-factly. "You should take a few moments alone with Diana, and tell her your feelings. Flatter her. Let her know what she means to you."

"I- but what- so you . . . I mean- " Mart was attempting and failing to follow Dan's train of thought. "But Dan, what about _us_?"

"What about us, indeed." Dan hoisted himself off the ground, sitting up.

"So, you and I . . ." Mart struggled to verbalize his thoughts. "Our relationship has no significance?"

"Oh, our relationship has plenty of significance," Dan said darkly. "If we were found out, it would destroy us both. That's why you might as well start getting close to Diana now. It's a great cover: no one suspects that there's anything between us right now, and you and Diana would probably divert speculation if anyone did notice us."

Mart relaxed, but he was still conflicted over Dan's words. Self-preservation didn't seem right if it involved deceiving someone else. He didn't want to hurt Diana, but his insistence on honor and truth had the potential to backfire on both him and Dan.

"I don't want to lie to her," Mart replied at last.

"You wouldn't be lying to her," Dan returned, completely self-assured. "You're attracted to her. I've seen the way you look at her, and I don't blame you. She's beautiful, even if she's a bit too glamorous and high maintenance for me to ever date."

Mart hesitated. "It just feels wrong to start a committed relationship with her when I'm already committed to you."

Slight surprise crossed Dan's face. "I never asked you to be _committed_ to me, Mart."

Pausing in puzzlement, Mart stared at him. "What?"

Dan resumed his usual understated sangfroid. "Whatever it is between you and me, it's not going to last forever. Our _relationship_, if you want to call it that, is only temporary. It might end next week. It could end next summer. But regardless, it's going to end sometime. So you might as well start looking at girls again now, Mart. Diana can be your fallback, kept in reserve for when we inevitably call it quits. We aren't going to get to ride off into the sunset together, like a het couple would in a romantic ending to a movie. There are no happy endings for people like us." A note of bitterness surfaced in his voice. "Bigots have made sure of that." For a moment, he gazed off into the distance that was gradually growing lighter, and then his eyes returned to Mart. "I refuse to lie to you about this, Mart. I won't be responsible for holding you back from your future. I don't want to convince you that we have much time time together, because we don't. You can't grow into an adult thinking that it's okay for you to build your life around another guy instead of a girl. As far as society is concerned, it's not."

Stunned into silence, Mart gazed at Dan with mounting dismay. Shaking his head without speaking, he turned from the other, his eyes traveling along the brightening landscape. He gasped, startled, as a pair of eyes, pale and enormous, emerged from the gloom. However, he recovered quickly, recognizing the fading, bespectacled eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg that were painted on an old advertising billboard that loomed above Louis Road. When the road was in the process of being constructed, it was expected to be a long, winding thoroughfare for the use of passing motorists. But when the project was deserted for a simpler route, the billboard and its eyes were similarly forsaken by the wild wag of an oculist who had initially placed them there to fatten his practice in the borough of Queens, and then sank down himself into eternal blindness, or forgot them and moved away.

Thus, the eyes remained: they looked out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which passed over a nonexistent nose. Blue and gigantic – their irises are one yard high, the eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days under sun and rain, brooded over the empty road.

"Just goes to show you," Dan said quietly. "Even when you think no one's watching, someone is."

Mart sighed, melancholia washing over him. "I want . . ." he couldn't even finish the sentence due to his disconsolation at his shattered hopes, but both he and Dan were aware of the unspoken words that hung between them.

"I know." Dan's voice was soft and not unkind. "But Mart, what we want and what actually happens rarely coincide in life."

There was nothing left to say: the silence roared, bellowing for the sustenance of words to fill the vast emptiness, but neither of them spoke.

And then, Dan leaned forward, kissing him so gently that Mart would later wonder if he'd just imagined it. It was Mart who broke the kiss, pulling back to look into Dan's eyes. Though the gaze was unfathomable, dark circles had formed beneath his eyes, the half-moons purple as bruises in a pale and drawn face: the doubtless results of many sleepless nights.

Then Dan rose, leaving Mart behind.

Mart watched him walk down the hill, and as the sun climbed higher in the sky, his spirits plunged.

* * *

**A/N:** Just to let any readers know, I'm regulated this story to the back burner. I'm not abandoning this fic; it's just not going to be a priority. There's been a general lack of interest for it, so I don't really think that updates will be missed, anyhow. But if anyone has any ideas for this fic, let me know.

As always, con crit is welcomed, but flames for slash will be used to fight fire with fire.


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